


Sarastro's Prize

by Songstress21 (Cantatrice18)



Category: Die Zauberflöte | The Magic Flute - Mozart/Schikaneder
Genre: Backstory, Desire, F/M, Forbidden Love, Missing Scene, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6750124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Songstress21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pamina's kidnap was a political maneuver, but her presence in the Temple of the Brotherhood becomes far more complicated. Soon, Sarastro must question his own motivations for keeping a beautiful young woman captive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sarastro's Prize

It seemed only natural. In the frantic hours after her capture, when the sound of her sobs echoed through the marble halls of the Temple, it seemed only right that she be brought to him in his private chamber, away from the nervous acolytes and disapproving priests. It was he who had called for her to be taken from her imperious mother, he who had made her a pawn in the never-ending battle between darkness and light. He had come to that decision as one of necessity and political advantage. What he would do, though, once he had her in his power, was a question he’d never thought to consider. And so when he drew her to his chest, kissing her wine red lips, it was only natural that she follow him to his bed. She had not resisted, had barely spoken a word. His touch alone seemed to quiet her sobbing, though she trembled when he stroked her long, dark hair. Her submission and obedience only confirmed the proper place of a woman in an enlightened man’s life. 

It was not until two weeks later, as he left his chamber to officiate the midnight rites, that he had the first inkling that something might be wrong. His Speaker, the highest ranking of all the priests, waited for him, dark eyes grave. “My lord,” the man murmured, “a word with you, if I may.”

Sarastro nodded, and the pair began to walk slowly down the long corridor toward the Temple’s inner keep. “Lord, a young man has arrived,” the Speaker said, his tone studied and calm. “He seeks the captive woman, the daughter of the Queen.”

Sarastro’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What claim does this young man have on her?” he asked, more forcefully perhaps than he intended.

“No claim, my Lord, save that of love,” the Speaker replied. 

Sarastro said nothing. His thoughts were elsewhere, with the dark-haired girl that even now lay tangled in his white linen sheets. “That woman sent him, to reclaim her daughter?” The speaker nodded, and Sarastro’s brows knit in a frown. “She shall never lay her tainted hands on Pamina again. Of that you may be sure.”

The Speaker halted suddenly. “My Lord, what draws you to this girl? Why such interest in her?”

“She is a pawn in a larger game,” Sarastro replied, reciting words he’d spoken many times before. “Surely you can understand that.”

“I know what she means to us, to our cause,” the Speaker countered. “But what does she mean to you?” When Sarastro did not answer, the Speaker continued. “The members of our Brotherhood believe that you have taken her as your mistress.”

That jolted Sarastro free of his musings. “They dare impugn my honor?”

“Tell me you have not,” said the Speaker. “Tell me she does not share your bed, that the temptations of her flesh have not clouded your judgment.”

Sarastro could not meet his eyes. The memory of the girl’s lips on his was far too fresh for him to deny his feelings. What he’d considered natural suddenly became recognizable as lust and greed. “What can I do?” he asked quietly. “I cannot free her, not with her mother prowling so near.”

“Set others the task of watching over her,” replied the Speaker urgently. “Stay away from her at all costs. It is not too late to regain the Brotherhood’s trust.”

The thought sent a chill up his spine. Even in two weeks, the girl had managed to become such a fixture in his life that the idea of losing her made his heart ache. But he forced himself to nod agreement. “I shall have the moor watch over her. He will keep her away from the Brotherhood’s secrets and prevent her from escaping.”

“I shall see to it your orders are carried out, Lord,” the speaker said, relief obvious in his voice. “In the meantime, the young man at our gates should, in my opinion, be allowed to enter. If he and his companion undertake the trials, I believe he may prove worthy of our band.”

“Very well,” replied Sarastro. “Let him enter and begin the trials. But promise him nothing. I will not hand her over to the first man to come looking for her. He must prove himself worthy.”

The Speaker gave another half bow and departed without another word. Sarastro remained in the hallway for a long moment, lost in thought.

As dawn broke over the distant hills, Sarastro returned to his chamber, entering silently and closing the door behind him before turning to the bed. The girl lay just as he’d left her, and he felt a shameful surge of lust as he admired the curves of her breasts as they pressed against her thin white chemise. The light streaming through the vast, east-facing window cast a rosy glow over her. She was radiant, a perfect woman. Unable to stop himself, he reached a hand toward her, but froze when he heard her moan. Her body contracted, her pale arms wrapping around her middle, her knees drawing up to her chest. The expression on her face was one of pain and grief. She murmured something under her breath, her voice pleading. He leaned in closer, in time to hear her whisper two words: “Help me.”

Her words achieved what the Speaker’s had not. He forced himself to take a step away, to look past his own desires and see the girl through the impartial eyes of the Brotherhood. She was a political asset, one they could not risk losing. And she was beautiful, heart-wrenchingly so. But she was not for him. He was bound to Temple service, to the brotherhood and the Gods themselves. She had no place at his side. But the Prince, an outsider willing to risk death to find her, might well be preordained by the Gods as her perfect match. No longer tired, Sarastro left his chamber once more and made his way to the private chapel reserved for his own personal use. He would ask the Gods for guidance in the matter. In the meantime, the moor Monostatos would take charge of the girl. Sarastro knew full well, now, that if she remained in his possession he would have no strength to resist her charms. More than ever, he wished the girl’s mother, the Queen of Darkness and Night, had never chosen to fight against the Brotherhood. If that woman had not sought to seize power from the Temple of Light, then her daughter’s abduction would not have been necessary. He would have never laid eyes on the girl. A part of him wished he’d never even heard the name “Pamina”. But even through all his regret, he still recalled the contentment he’d felt as he’d held her in his arms, the way he’d cradled her body against his. Even if he were to never see her again, the memory of her would remain. And for that, sinful as it might be, he was grateful.


End file.
